nine2five 2,12 True Calling
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Sarah goes after Augusto Gaez alone. Chuck and the CAT Squad, to the rescue!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **A little later than I wanted, having some Internet connectivity problems. Anyway, here begins my remake of what will mostly be CAT Squad, I think, with a few other easily recognizable bits in it. This chapter, though, has a lot of stuff that plays into my larger story as well, which will make more sense as we approach my remake of Season 5.

* * *

"_Face it, Bartowski, you screwed up."_

"_She is an _artist_ of death." _

"_That must…sting."_

"_Dispose of this trash."_

* * *

Washington, week seven…

Devon came up to the bedroom door. "Babe, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but can we _not_ go out tonight?"

Ellie looked at her husband with dismay in the mirror, as she put her earrings on. "I thought you liked going out." Going out meant getting away, away from work. She wanted their together time to be Devon-time.

He reached out to touch her shoulders. "I like going out _with you_. But lately I'm getting the feeling that you aren't going out with me."

Ellie's face scrunched unattractively in confusion. "Honey?"

"Talk to me, El," said Devon.

She turned in his arms. "About what?"

"About whatever's bothering you? Is it Chuck?"

"No, he's in Prague," said Ellie, smiling. "Diane keeps me up to date. He's setting records over there."

"Then what is it? What are you working on?"

She closed her eyes, resting her head against his. "That's classified."

"I don't need to know the code, El," said Devon with a laugh. "I don't speak computer."

"Well I do and it isn't helping. Why would they build something to go in as a unit, and then build something else to take it out in pieces?"

He swayed side to side, just holding her. "Because it broke?"

She liked moving with him. "It's a program, honey, not an object. Even in its earliest stages of development, it was always just one thing."

Devon smiled. "Speaking of early stages of development…" He cupped her belly, bent to place a gentle kiss on the upper curve. "Hey there, little girl," he whispered, "Can you feel your mommy and daddy dancing?"

Suddenly, Ellie gasped in shock, completely still and eyes wide.

Devon stood up, looking at her in vast concern. "El?"

Ellie raised a hand, gesturing him to silence. Her breathing came faster, and a look of great peace and immense joy settled over her face. She grabbed his hair and plastered a kiss right on his lips. Being a heart surgeon, he was smart enough to kiss her back.

"I _love_ you," she growled in his ear when she was done. "I want you to remember something for me. Can you do that?"

"Anything for you, babe."

"Good," she said, kissing him again. "Remember the word 'polyzygotic'."

He pulled his head back in shock. "El? What? _Why?_"

"Because I want you to take me to bed right now, and make me forget my own name."

_Time to be awesome! _He scooped her up, and turned around. "Anything for you, babe."

* * *

Prague, week eight…

They were more than halfway back to base when their watches started beeping simultaneously, a particular tone Chuck had never heard before. "What's that–?"

"Allcall," said Casey, pushing a button on the car.

The radio flipped over, to reveal a radar screen with two blinking lights, with a map overlay. The radar screen suddenly drew a wiggly line, tracing the shortest route by surface roads.

"Not good enough."

"Casey, we just passed an exit!"

"That would really help if we were headed in the other direction."

Chuck opened the glove compartment, pressing a yellow button. The windshield lit up with targeting lines, looking for a target.

"Bartowski?"

Chuck gauged their speed and selected a point many yards ahead, and pressed the red button.

"Ow!" yelled Casey, lifting his foot. "A little warning next time."

"Sorry."

The missile struck a section of the divider, separating the two sides of the road. Casey threw their vehicle into a controlled skid, angling it into the gap. The line on the map got a lot shorter.

"You must really want that 'A', Bartowski," grumbled Casey.

* * *

_You must really want that 'A', Bartowski._ Chuck smiled.

Casey whacked him on the arm. "Charles! Head in the game!"

Chuck woke up and shrieked in surprise, his voice an octave higher than usual. _I'm sorry! I'll never blow up your highways again! _He opened his eyes. They were stopped on the side of the road, the smoking wreckage of what was once a very fast car stinking and steaming in front of them. Another agent could be in there, and the thought chilled him, brought him fully awake.

Casey checked his load. "There's a sound I've missed. I like it better when you're trying to kill me."

Chuck checked his tranq pistol. "Next time you interrupt my beauty sleep maybe I will."

The old soldier's rule, 'sleep when you can'. Casey couldn't fault Chuck for nodding off, especially since it was his idea to wake Chuck up in the middle of the night for a surprise fake mission that got a surprise real mission suddenly tacked on. He tapped the pocket of Chuck's coat, where the spare magazine was. "Make sure you really load your real gun, Bartowski. That way if you die I'll have something to really kill myself with before Sarah finds out." He popped the door.

Chuck had changed his load long since, so he just followed.

Together they approached the burnt, crumpled wreckage. The allcall had been real, only the conveniently placed exit and ready-to-hand missile launcher were products of Chuck's imagination. And the map. A lot cooler than GPS.

"I smell gas," said Chuck. And other things. He looked down, but there wasn't any on the ground, just glittering pebbles.

"Bullet-holes all along this side," said Casey. Chuck stepped over the guard rail, mindful of his footing on the loose stones, and flashed his light along the side he could see. No bullet holes in the metal. "Probably punctured the tank, and spilled gas all over the road. The crash must have set it off." Casey flashed a light inside.

Chuck looked away, up the road, down the road, anywhere else. _Better you than me. _"Anybody in there?"

"Nope."

The passenger doors were pressed shut against the rail. "Passenger window is shattered. You think they got out?"

"I hope so." Casey's voice didn't put too much stock in the idea. He and Chuck flashed their lights across the embankment. "Where to start looking?"

"I'm right here," said a woman's voice.

Two flashlights moved over the same area. "Zondra?" asked Chuck, pretty sure he recognized the voice.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What the hell happened?" asked Casey.

"They shot up my car, dumb-ass, what do you think happened? I barely got out in time, hopefully they thought I was still inside when it blew. For a second there I thought maybe you were them, come back to finish the job, but it's been much too long for that."

"Nah, it's just us," said Casey. He heard discordant wailing in the distance. "Come on up and let's get out of here."

The bushes moved, but she didn't appear.

"Zondra?" called Chuck. "Are you all right?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any clothes, would you?"

* * *

Washington DC, same week seven as before, only now about ten rapturous hours later, really about two rapturous hours, and another eight of deep and restful sleep, which can often be the same thing…

Manoosh sat at his own table in the Manoosh-cave, whiling away the moments until the meeting looking over old recordings, trying to pair up the inner and outer worlds of one Charles Irving Bartowski. With the project stalled out, again, it was good to have a hobby to take the edge off.

The monitor chimed. Not Beckman.

"Hey, Manoosh," said Hannah, with a genuine smile. One of the few women to really appreciate him. Why did all the good ones have to be taken? "Are we the first ones here?"

"Yup," he said. "Afraid you're stuck with just me for now."

She frowned. "Now, Manoosh, what have I told you about that?"

He rolled his eyes in mock-irritation. "'Plenty of other people ready to do it for me'," he said in a sing-song tone.

"Better." She watched him as he worked, listening. "What's the music?"

"Chuck and I were working on a project, before all the craziness started," said Manoosh. "I was doing the sound, so I just kept going."

"It sounds nice. Can I borrow it? We still haven't decided on a playlist for the reception."

He smiled. So nice to be appreciated. "Yeah, sure."

Just then the General's chime sounded, and Manoosh scrambled to kill the music. "I'm glad you're both here," said Beckman when her image appeared. "We have a crisis, so I'll have to cut this meeting short."

"But General, Ellie's not here–"

"I know, she's running very late. But she had some good news, and knowing how I like to be the bearer of glad tidings she gave it to me to pass along to you."

_Progress?_ Manoosh opened a document to take notes. "What's the news, General?"

Beckman picked up a piece of paper and read off of it. "Polyzygotic."

"What kind of news is that?"

"I expect you to tell me, Mr. Depak, as soon as may be. Hannah, stay on the line, we'll need your input…" Her image went out, and took Hannah's with it.

_Great. _Manoosh shook his head as he saved all his files. _How do I even _spell_ that?_

* * *

Prague, week eight…

Zondra sat behind Casey in the back of the car, wearing Chuck's shirt, his coat's arms tied around her waist, as an impromptu sarong. She felt something bump against her knees and tapped the fabric. "Is this a fresh magazine in your pocket, Agent Charles, or were you just happy to see me?"

Chuck turned red.

"Looks like somebody was glad to see you back there, Rizzo" asked Casey. Someone had to save Chuck from the ladies. "And they weren't shooting blanks, either."

"Gee, thanks, Casey," muttered Chuck.

"Don't mention it. Okay, Charles, let's hear it. What happened back there?"

"Uh, hello," said Zondra, waving, trying to catch his eye in the mirror. "Eyewitness right behind you."

"I know," said Casey. "Agent Charles, report."

"Agent Rizzo was speeding in the left lane, which isn't really a killing offense anywhere but LA," said Chuck, his hands moving to illustrate the events he was describing. "The shooter had to come up on her right, and took out the front tire." The only bullet hole he'd seen on the right side was in the tire. "This forced her to slow, 'slow' being a relative term in this case, and pull right. Skid marks and the faint smell of burnt rubber indicate that the shooter pulled left and hit his brakes. As Agent Rizzo's car passed him on the right he shot it up with automatic weapon fire. She ducked down, lost control, and the car crashed and burst into flames from the punctured tank. Rizzo, however, shot out her passenger window, and as the car crashed jumped out. Lack of burnt hair says she got out before the explosion, but probably not by much, since she reeks of gasoline, and between you and me I'm not sure which smells worse."

"Hair, I'm thinking," said Casey.

"I'll go with hair, too, but my coat's still probably ruined." Chuck held up a piece of shredded leather. "Anyway, Die Hard 4 to the contrary notwithstanding, sliding, rolling, and/or tumbling across the pavement with any speed did a number on her outer garments, possibly already torn from the broken window glass and on fire. By the time she got past the guard rail cable, the gravel of the embankment, and the thorny bushes down below, the most intact protective item of clothing she had left would have been a thong, assuming she was wearing one. She had to have lost the shreds at the end, though, otherwise she would be more injured than she is."

"The bushes ate my clothes," said Rizzo, and Chuck turned red again. _How cute._

"She pulled a Rhonda," added Casey helpfully.

"Yeah, thank you Casey, I _got_ it."

Casey shrugged. "Just making sure."

"What's a Rhonda?"

"Sacrificing your clothes to get out of a tangling trap," said Chuck, as if that explained anything. "Thanks to the fire, the shooter was unable to immediately verify his kill, thanks to the roll down the hill, Agent Rizzo was no longer on fire, and the bushes made her invisible from above. I assume from the speed and professionalism of the whole operation that he expected the allcall, and he couldn't have known how far away reinforcements would be, so he left the scene rather than pursue Agent Rizzo any further."

Professionalism. _Heh. _"I would have at least taken a shot at the bushes."

"You would have had to get out of the car," said Chuck. "Good point, Casey. Now we know the shooter worked alone."

"Thanks for that thorough analysis of how I ended up naked, Charles," said Rizzo, annoyed. "You wouldn't happen to know the _color_ of the thong, would you?"

Chuck looked at her in the rearview. "That's a trick question."

She fumbled with his jacket, drawing it tighter. "Goddammit!"

"Anything to add, Agent Rizzo?" asked Casey.

"The shooter, singular, not plural, was a white male, with a beard," she said quickly. "How the _hell_ did you do that, Charles?"

Casey laughed. "The only thing Agent Charles can't do better than three other agents combined is fight a woman."

"And not blush."

Chuck blushed.

Zondra laughed shortly. "Sarah must love you."

"Yes she does," said Chuck. He turned to look at her again. "Or did you mean that in some snide, sarcastic way?"

For a second she was at a loss for words. Hostility she could handle, but the open inquiry on his face being something she wasn't at all prepared for. "Um, snide and sarcastic." Put that way it felt kind of crude.

"Why don't you like my wife?"

She lurched forward, so fast the seatbelt caught. "She called me a traitor to my face!"

He let Hurricane Zondra blow right past him, staring her in the eye. "_Are_ you one?"

She flopped back into her seat. "Agent Charles, I could have come up with a lot of reasons for not liking Sarah, anyone who's worked with her very long could. The only reason I even mentioned the 'traitor' thing is because I'm _not_ one."

Chuck nodded. "I'm very sorry."

"What are you sorry for? You've got nothing to do with it."

"You're still mad about it, though. It must have hurt, finding out she'd lost faith in you like that," said Chuck. "And I mean that in a sympathetic, consoling way, just so you know."

The honest emotion made her uncomfortable. "I can see that." Suddenly she looked curious. "How long have you known Sarah?"

Casey cleared his throat.

Zondra smiled. "That long, huh? I'm guessing you don't know her dark side."

Chuck had seen recorded footage of some of her kills. Not the same thing as being there but close. He could still smell the pine needles of the Christmas tree lot where Mauser died. Where Mauser _had_ to die, in order to protect him. "When I've had to. She's not that woman anymore."

Rizzo stared out the window. "If you say so."

Chuck turned away, and didn't look back.

* * *

Moscow, week eight…

Frost made her early morning rounds, Sarah at her side. D-Day was here, H-hour approached, and they never felt like they'd developed the plan enough. The guards had gotten used to the constant chatter as they patrolled.

Which may have been the point.

Suddenly Frost grabbed Sarah's arm. "Stop here. This is my third safe zone. Twenty years making them and you used them up in twenty days." She pulled a flat case from her pocket. "Give this to Chuck when you get back."

Sarah took it, wondered at the rattling noise. "What is it?"

"It was Hydra. What it is now, only Chuck will know. Go ahead and scan it for bugs, that shouldn't hurt the contents." She stepped forward, outside the safe area. "Don't worry about the clothes, we'll have them shipped. I'll miss you, Sarah."

* * *

Prague, week eight…

The doorknob rattled, as someone on the other side gripped it and used the key. It opened onto darkness, and a hand slid in to turn on the lights even before it had fully opened. "–on in, I can find you a robe or something until they get a room set up, and some spare clothes of your own."

Chuck stopped in the doorway. "Um…"

Carina lounged in his bed, covered by a thin sheet and not much else. "Well, don't just stand there, lover boy. Let me meet your other woman."

"Um…"

"Yeah, 'lover boy', what she said!" A hand shoved Chuck hard in the back, and he stumbled toward the bed, letting Zondra in, wearing his shirt above and coat below. "C?"

Carina sat up, holding the sheet to her neck. "Z?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" they said simultaneously.

"Um…" said Chuck, wearing only his pants.

Casey stood in the doorway and took a picture.

* * *

Washington DC, week eight…

Hannah logged off her servers, and made sure all her alerts were active, and set to forward to the right places. They always were, of course, but she hadn't become any of the things she'd become by being sloppy. Coat on and bag in hand, she opened the door and turned off the light, turning one last time to scrutinize her tiny but tidy domain.

Why was that light blinking? That light never blinked.

Lights went up, bag went down, as Hannah stepped up to the device in question and activated the screen. A stylized geopolitical map decorated the background, with a tiny dot of white light moving slowly over them.

She spun to her desk and turned on the monitor, pressing the button. _Come on, come on!_ She turned to look back at the screen, and the dot.

Naturally, that's when the monitor lit, giving General Beckman an wonderful view of the back of her head. She'd never seen the back of Hannah's head before, but she recognized the cut of her hair. "What is it, Hannah?"

Hannah's head turned faster than an owl's. "General! Sarah's on the move!"

* * *

**A/N2 **Hopefully from here on out the various groups of people in this story will be moving in the same time frame.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **Crap. I put Carina and Zondra in the same room together.

I also have the idea in my head that Zondra's last name is Rizzo, and Amy's is Johnson, but I have no idea where I got that idea, since I can't find anything backing it up. Maybe a fanfiction or two, somewhere. Carina has no official last name either, as far as I know.

I've been reading a lot of fanfics lately with Gaez in them. It's a welcome change from Shaw, except that all of us seem to be doing it at once.

* * *

"_Anything for you, babe."_

"_Anybody in there?"_

"_Sarah must love you."_

"_Sarah's on the move!"_

* * *

Casey shut the door. "Aren't you supposed to be in Russia, Miller?" he asked, emailing the picture he'd just taken to one of his other accounts, in case Chuck somehow got hold of his camera.

"I got blitzed," said the naked, sheet-covered redhead. Blitzkrieg, lightning war, a sudden attack by one enemy on another. She'd been taken by surprise, possibly betrayed. A spy's worst nightmare.

"That explains the clothes, at least," said Zondra, fingering the collar of Chuck's shirt.

Casey turned on video.

"Mine are in the laundry." Carina looked at Zondra's outfit. "Whose hay have _you_ been rolling around in, Z?"

Zondra pointed at shirtless Chuck. "Ask him, if you want all the blow-by-blow."

_That explains the clothes, at least._ Carina looked to the other side of the bed, frowning. "Sudden death wish, Chuckles?" she said, her voice low and dangerous.

"Um…"

"Does he look stupid?" asked Casey, trying to get her mind out of its usual gutter.

_No, just too, too easy. _Carina played to the camera, jerking a thumb at the half-clad nerd. "Dressed like that?"

"I said 'stupid', not 'scrawny'."

"I am not scrawny!"

"And _I_ think he looks like a gentleman," said Zondra. He really did give her the clothes off his back.

"Do you even know what 'gentle' means?" said Carina, an evil glint in her eye. "You didn't on the CAT Squad."

"Wait a minute, the _what_ squad?" asked Chuck.

_Bait taken. _"CAT Squad," said Carina. "Clandestine Attack Team." She smirked at Zondra's discomfort. "Didn't tell him about that, did you?"

Zondra made a fist. "I'm going to kill you, C."

"Clandestine Attack Team Squad?" said Chuck. "That makes no sense. Is it a team or a squad? And the only place either of you could be clandestine is a high-end fashion show. Well, no, I take that back, that Milan thing didn't exactly go under anyone's radar…"

Zondra put her fist away. "I thought that sounded like you." Unless he was talking about the _other_ Milan thing.

"This guy who called you the CAT Squad, is he still alive?" asked Chuck.

Carina turned back to him. "Between you and me, they should have called us 'Three CATs and a dog, because everyone called her the bitch of the group–"

Two could play at that game, if the second was Zondra. "Better than what they called _you_, Ice Cube."

Casey stood there, ears bleeding. Unable to stop the train wreck and unable to look away.

Carina acted blasé. "I'm warm where it counts…"

"That explains how you got out of Russia naked."

Carina snarled at her former teammate, hands like claws, digging into the thin fabric that was all that protected Casey's delicate sensibilities.

"So who blitzed you, Miller?" said Casey quickly, before the sheet and the gauntlet went down. He pushed the button, ending his recording. One video he'd never watch, but he didn't make it for himself.

"Volkoff's men?" asked Chuck, knowing it couldn't have been, but more concerned with keeping his undercover partner under cover.

Carina glared at him. "Obviously not," she said, letting go of the sheet to point up. "Or my little eye-in-the-sky, whatever you finally eventually get around to calling her, would have given me enough warning that it wouldn't have been a blitz."

"Carina, focus," said Chuck.

"Yeah, Miller," said Casey. "Your cover got blown, you've got bigger things to worry about than a stupid code-name."

"No, Casey," said Chuck. "I meant that 'Focus' _was_ the stupid code-name. A lot better than the other, for this end of things."

Casey slowly shook his head. "Am I the only grown-up in the room?" Suddenly his phone started playing the Imperial March. They all stared at it, right there in his hand.

"Uh, Casey," asked Chuck, delicately. "You were saying…?"

"I was saying I'm gonna make my daughter single again." Casey stabbed at the accept button. "Yes, General?"

* * *

Quick scene change to Washington…

"Acquire Agent Bartowski and get to a secure communicator, Colonel," said Beckman without preamble. "We have a critical situation."

"Yes, ma'am," said Casey. "I'm with Agent Charles now. Uh, we have Agent Miller with us, as well. Is her presence needed for this meeting?"

"Agent Miller is with _you_?" asked Beckman. "Thank God. That makes the situation much less critical."

* * *

Quick scene change back to Prague…

Casey's brows rose, and he turned to look at Carina silently. "Are we both talking about the same Agent Miller, General?"

Carina grinned and made a crude hand gesture.

"Her signal terminated abruptly five days ago, Colonel. We feared the worst." Beckman audibly pulled herself together. "I want her report ASAP."

"Yes, ma'am." Casey put his phone away. "Charles, make yourself decent. And get a robe for Red, the General wants her story yesterday. Rizzo, you stay here. They've got cable, but all that means is the shows suck in Czechoslovakian."

"Uh, Casey," Chuck finished pulling a new T-shirt over his head. "I think we should bring Agent Rizzo with us."

"Yeah?" He looked at Rizzo, looking at Chuck. "Why?"

Chuck tossed Carina his robe. "Call it a hunch, but I think two agents, at one time on the same team, both blitzed in the same week, is worth reporting."

* * *

Another quick scene change, but still in Prague..

Half of Team B wan on the secure line with the other half, while Zondra waited to be called. She had no need to know and so she wouldn't. Ellie must not have known about Carina's return, from the look of relief on her face. Hannah took it much more in stride, with a little wave of her hand.

"Good evening, team, although I suppose it's good morning where you are," said the General. She nodded at Carina. "Agent Miller, good to see you safe and sound, if more casually dressed than usual. I assume there's a reason for it?"

Chuck raised his hand. Old habit. "Uh, General, before we begin, we have another agent with us. We extracted her from a little…situation here, and I think her story may have some relevance to whatever Carina has to say."

"Relevant how?"

"They were both members of the same team, and they were both attacked in the same week," said Casey, backing up his partner. He left out the rest for now.

"Would this agent be either of these two women?" Two official file photos popped up on the monitor.

"Yes, ma'am," said Casey. "Agent Rizzo."

"Bring her in." As Chuck got up to do that she added, "Ellie, Hannah, shut down your cameras please."

When Zondra sat down only General Beckman was on the monitor. "Good evening, General."

"Agent Rizzo. I understand you've had an eventful night."

"Yes ma'am. My car was attacked, I barely escaped the explosion. Agents Casey and Charles were the first to respond."

Beckman didn't bother to correct her choice of title for Casey. "You're very fortunate they happened to be in the area."

Casey leaned into the pickup. "No, General, Agent Rizzo was part of Chuck's training scenario last night."

"And that happened by chance, did it?"

"No, ma'am, but I suspect you already knew that."

"I can smell a rat as well as any cat, Colonel," said Beckman with a little smile. "When analysis of the picture Agent Miller sent in failed as a whole, the circled faces in it were fed into the system separately." A row of small images appeared at the bottom of the screen, faces cropped from the larger image.

"Wow, General, I didn't even see you move your hands."

"Agent Charles…"

"Can I just take a moment to tell her that her alternate code-name is "Focus', General?"

"Chuck, f-" Beckman caught herself, looking confused, but she recovered quickly. "This is not the time." She glanced at Hannah's monitor and caught the tiny _Yes!_ gesture, and suppressed a smile. Back to business. "While Sarah appears to have exploited their more personal proclivities to accomplish her goals, they were all business associates as well."

"Yes, ma'am," said Rizzo. "Carina and I recognized them from our days on the CAT Squad. When your Facial Rec failed she asked me to play courier."

_To the Intersect Host._ "By so doing she may have painted targets on both your backs. Doubtless you'll remember this man, a known associate of theirs who is not in Carina's picture and so was probably not at the house." A man's handsome, bearded face appeared on the monitor.

"Augusto Gaez," snarled Carina and Rizzo together.

"And from the look of things, it seems he remembers you."

* * *

Frost sat in her chair on the Volkoff plane, working quietly away on her laptop, as if she sat in her tiny office back in Moscow.

Sarah came up with a cup of coffee and stood across from her.

"Suited up already?" asked Frost.

Sarah hadn't noticed Frost look up. She put the coffee down and twisted inside the catsuit, pulling and stretching the tight leather. All the gear had to go on the outside, but she didn't have any of that on yet, or the annoyingly high-heeled boots. "The leather squeaks." She hadn't worn it since she'd returned with the Gobbler.

"Yes. Good idea, breaking it in up here."

"Better than down there." Sarah sat and took a sip of her stimulant beverage. "Why are you here?"

Frost didn't lift her gaze or stop typing. "What do you mean?"

Sarah scratched at her arm. The whole thing itched abominably. "I'm done with Volkoff and him with me."

"That may be true," said Frost, "But you tend to leave opportunities in your wake, and Alexei sent me to be on hand to seize those opportunities. Or to make apologies, if you fail." Now she lifted her gaze, pinning Sarah. "I hate making apologies. See to it that I don't have to."

* * *

Chuck raised his hand again. "Uh, General, who–?"

"Augusto Gaez in the arch-nemesis of the CATs, and the leader of the Gentle Hand." A different picture of Gaez popped up.

"The 'Gentle Hand'?" said Chuck. "Are these bad guys or a massage parlor?"

"They're ruthless terrorists," said Zondra.

"Killers for hire," added Carina. "And now he must believe we're after him again."

Zondra nodded. "If you want the competition blown away, they're who you call. Pretty literally, too. I rocket launcher would have been more their speed than what they did to me tonight."

Casey grunted. "Probably wanted proof of death."

"Or maybe they were stretched thin hunting me," said Carina. "I was dodging these clowns for days, They almost had me at one point, but I…managed to get away."

"What happened?" asked the General, suspicious of that pause.

"I don't know. I was in a barn, no ammo, just my knife. I could hear them outside, closing in, and then, I don't know, it sounded like a spaceship hovered over the barn, I'm surprised the thing didn't fall down. Lots of gunfire, some explosions, and then it just…went away."

"Did you get a look at it?" asked Chuck. It probably wasn't a spaceship, but still…

* * *

Interlude of sorts, in Washington…

Ellie was grateful for her invisibility as she watched her brother. The General had been keeping her informed, sent her statistics, photos. One memorable afternoon, they'd even gotten together at an undisclosed location to go over actual footage. In theory it had been a medical briefing for the Intersect Host's primary caretaker, but without medical data of any kind it was really just an opportunity for Diane to show off her star pupil to her star protégé.

Generals don't say 'I told you so.' They don't have to.

The whole sequence had been carefully orchestrated, of course. First the numbers, dry facts that would appeal to a medical statistician like Ellie, without setting off any of her brother-alarms. The photos had been carefully selected to show him at his best. Lots of head shots, his expression calm and concentrated.

The images from the pistol range were initially from behind, the emphasis on form, although Diane was careful not to wax too enthusiastic about that to a woman who had only once ever held a gun, and never fired it. The circular targets had nice large holes in them, usually just the one each. The human shapes were much worse, or they had been, until someone who'd just received a commendation had suggested using a paintball gun instead.

As General Beckman had laid those targets aside, she'd said, "You see, Ellie, he's still your brother."

Then all that static imagery was put into motion, with selected footage. Gymnastics and juggling. Martial arts and weapons skills. All things Ellie was used to seeing, but this time he had no Intersect to help him. All of these skills had become his, somehow. He wasn't Intersect-level perfect but he was still virtually unstoppable. He was still Chuck, too, a fact for which both Ellie and the General were unspeakably grateful. If anything he was even more Chuck than before.

Then came the scenarios. To Ellie they looked like spy action movies with her brother as the star, but Beckman was careful to point out the little flaws in his performance. Eventually even Ellie was able to notice Chuck's tell, every time someone called him Agent Charles. He wasn't comfortable with that whitest of lies, and made it as true as he could as soon as possible.

"Call me Chuck."

And he never used the gun the way guns were supposed to be used. As Chuck had demonstrated a few weeks back, Intersect accuracy and dart guns are much better than mere bullets for leaving enemy agents alive for questioning, so Beckman eventually reconciled herself with the idea of an agent's primary weapon being a mere tranq pistol, as long as he was the agent. Ellie thought that was a good thing, that he was still her Chuck.

Out of all that story Carina told, he focused on the spaceship. What a nerd.

* * *

Real-time, back in the briefing…

"I got a good look at nothing except the ground, trying not to step in man-paste." Carina shuddered in memory. "I rearmed, stole a motorcycle and got the hell out. Hocked the bike in Poland for some medical care, a rail pass, and a ride to the train station in a turnip truck."

"Gotta love the classics," muttered Casey.

"What kind of medical care?"

"Metal fragment in my left leg, that's how I ended up in the barn."

"She's not field-capable, General," said Casey.

"Agent Miller will return to DC as soon as possible," said Beckman, "And see Dr. Woodcombe about her injury."

On the little screen to her left, Ellie mouthed a 'Thank you' to her boss. Devon loved to be useful.

That sounded like she was being benched. Carina hated being benched. Who'd watch Sarah? "I walked here, didn't I? Snuck in, and made it all the way to Chuck's room."

"Naked," added Casey. "In his bed."

"To wait until he came back, and you," Carina shot back. The only men on the continent she knew she could trust. "No clean clothes. Five days."

Chuck put a hand on her shoulder and she calmed.

"General, what about Amy?" asked Zondra, amazed at the change in her former friend. "If Gaez is after us he could go after her too."

"We thought of that, Agent Rizzo," said Beckman. "While I'd like to say she's safe and sound, the best I can do is to point out that if her whereabouts are unknown to us, they should be even more unknown to whatever mole gave away your own locations."

Carina snorted. "Just look for the biggest party, General. She'll be in the middle of it."

"I have Mr. Clark monitoring her phone."

"That'll work too, I guess."

"General, what's our response?" asked Casey. No one went after his team and lived to smirk about it. "Are we going after Gaez?"

"No, Colonel, you're going after Sarah. Her tracking nanos have become active again. It appears she's on her way to South America as we speak."

* * *

Somewhere in the world…

Amy Johnson held the phone to her ear, nodding occasionally as she memorized the instructions she was receiving. "Yes sir. I'm in Miami now. I'll fly down to Rio and meet them at the safe house, call me with the location. Yes, sir. I hope they bring lots of weapons, this sounds like my kind of party. I want to do my bit to take down that bastard at last. Thank you, sir." She ended the call.

A male hand reached over and plucked the phone from her grasp, putting it on the bedside table. The man whose hand it was gazed down on her from above, as they lay in bed together. "Bastard?"

She slapped him with the now-empty hand, lightly. "Bastard," she confirmed. "You going after my friends behind my back, 'Gusto baby?"

* * *

**A/N2 **Okay, first of all, I'd like to apologize for a little bit of confusion. I made a mistake and named this story nine2five 2.13 when I created it, but it's really nine2five 2.12.

In canon, episode 12 was only halfway through. In this story we're approximately two thirds done. If my count is correct, in these 12 episodes of mine I've rewritten 17 canon episodes, with another getting a barely-honorable mention.

I'm glad I don't have to hide Amy's treachery either. They really jumped through hoops to hide it until the big reveal, in canon, and the story suffered for it. Not only was it never a surprise, they forced all sorts of illogical and implausible actions on people who really should have known better.

Last, I'd like to thank author ygbsm for his story A Good Man Goes to War. A small part of this chapter borrows from it. Those of you who've read it will know what I'm talking about. Those of you who haven't read it should.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N CAT Squad** must be one of the worst episodes of Chuck ever made. Plot holes, inconsistencies, OOC behavior, and just plain stupidity everywhere you look. I hate **Fake Name** not because it's bad, but because it could have been great. **CAT Squad** is just bad.

* * *

"_I got blitzed."_

"_I can smell a rat as well as any cat, Colonel."_

"_I'm done with Volkoff and him with me." _

"_You going after my friends behind my back?"_

* * *

In the air to Rio…

The plane jinked in midair, causing Casey to drop another ice cube, but this time Chuck didn't try to kill him, although he was armed.

"Okay, Charles, spill," said the big man, inviting Murphy to do his worst as he made his way back to his team, planning their mission literally on the fly. "How are the trackers still active? They should have gone silent months ago."

Chuck didn't look up from his maps. "Isn't that a little secondary right now, Casey?"

"Humor me," said Casey, unsmiling. "I'm a curious guy. Curious as in, how could a tracking signal that should have gone dead suddenly become active again, and start leading us away from an enemy stronghold right after our AOS got chased off?"

"Not 'right after'," said Chuck. "That would have been five days ago, and I admit I would have found that timing suspicious. You should probably ask Focus about this, I'm sure the General thinks the same way you do."

_Focus. _Heh. "Radio silence, moron."

"I didn't say you had to ask her _now_."

"But I want to know _now_, Charles, so your best guess is my only guess."

"Be careful what you wish for, Colonel," said Zondra. "He's a pretty good guesser."

"Don't say things like that, Rizzo, or he might start to think he was competent."

"Trying to get some mission prep done here, people," said Chuck.

Casey sat down. "We've got the three of us, and a bunch of guns that a _training facility_ could spare, and we're in the air, hopefully not too far behind. That's all the mission prep we're gonna get, Charles." He drank his watered scotch. "All the Google Maps in the world can't fix that."

Chuck tapped the side of his head. "You know, this computer you call my brain, it doesn't work on _no_ data, Colonel."

"You know, he's got a point, Charles," said Rizzo. "I know you married her and all, and I'm sorry about that, by the way, but someone was a traitor in our team. Someone just tried to kill me and Carina, and someone could be running back to her boss right now. Give me a reason not to blow her away simply on general principles."

"I'd kill you," said Casey.

Her look said _You'd try. _"That's a reason to walk away. I need something better if you want me to go in with you."

_Three CATs and a dog, 'cause she's the bitch…_Chuck threw down his maps. "All right, fine. Um, okay. Nanos have a limited life, they're supposed to get their power as they move, until they get excreted. As they get excreted, their number drops below threshold, so a signal is no longer detectable."

"Nothing new there, Charles."

"You want an alternate workflow, I need to have the normal one in mind. So we have a signal, which means the nanos couldn't have been excreted. Which probably means–"

"They were never injected in the first place," said Casey.

Chuck shrugged. "Best guess, Carina's needle pierced the suit and the nanos were spread all over the inside of her sleeve. Once they dried out they'd stop broadcasting, so their limited battery power wouldn't be depleted. What do you want to bet she's wearing the same outfit now? That leather thing's got to get pretty sweaty."

"The rubber ones are worse," said Zondra. She looked up, into their silence. "Or so I've heard."

"Sweat," said Casey, shaking his head to get the images out. "It's a theory."

Zondra laughed. "It's a WAG."

That's all Casey'd asked for. "I'll take his WAGs over any other analyst's facts, and so will you."

"Fine, so it doesn't have to be treason, and we're all friends again." Chuck picked up his maps. "Can I get back to work now?"

"No." Casey pulled out a tranq gun and shot him once, with a low-dosage dart. "You're exhausted, and you're spiraling. We need you fresh."

* * *

In a decent but not-too-expensive suburb of Washington DC…

The cab pulled up to the curb, and a beautiful redhead got out, limping slowly up to the door. Before she got there it opened, and Devon was right there to help her into the house.

A little down the road, someone watched from behind the curtains of another house. The watcher got out a cheap, planless phone, scrolling through a short list of contacts. Selecting one, the watcher tapped out a quick note, informing her contact of exactly where Carina Miller was.

* * *

At a safehouse in Rio...

"Yoo-hoo, Zondra Rizzo," caroled the blonde in a sing-song voice.

"Well, there goes the stealth approach," muttered the subject of the caroling. "At least she's not using a loudspeaker."

The door flew open and the caroler pelted down the walk to the tired team. Zondra braced herself as she was swept up into a fierce hug. "I missed you, girlfriend," said Amy. "And Carina, and…and…where is everybody? They told me the CATs were getting back together."

"Not exactly," said Zondra. "We'll talk about it under cover. There'd better be coffee."

Amy smacked her lightly. "Oh you, as if I'd forget." Suddenly she appeared to notice the men. "And who have you collected this time?"

Rizzo indicated the men with jerks of her head. "Casey, Charles."

Somehow Casey just didn't seem all that inviting, but Amy wrapped her arms around Chuck. "Well hello, Agent Charles." She looked at Rizzo. "Halfsies?"

"He's Walker's husband."

Amy practically pushed Chuck away, her voice starting at a shriek and edging up to the supersonic. "Ohmigod, ohmigod! What are we waiting for, you have got to tell me all about it." She grabbed Chuck's bag and ran back inside.

"That was fun," said Zondra.

"How'd she make the cut?" asked Casey. "Infiltration and inducement?"

"And a mean right hook," said Zondra. "Don't let her looks or behavior fool you, she's good where it counts."

"What about where it doesn't count?" asked Chuck, checking his collar for lipstick. He reeked of perfume.

"Yeah, well, that part takes a little getting used to."

* * *

Movement down the street attracted the watcher's attention, as Devon pulled out his car. The redhead, now sporting a leg brace and a cane, walked to the passenger side as Devon got the door, gentleman that he was.

It all went into the next report. Once made, the watcher sat back and contemplated the empty house.

* * *

The team had no van that night. It would have been far too obvious this close to the target, and they had no one to stay in it. Chuck and Zondra went in first. Zondra took his hand, and Chuck flinched. "We're a couple, Charles," she muttered. "Sell it."

He flashed her a number two smile. She wasn't the person he wanted by his side in Rio, or anywhere else. That person had to be around here somewhere. "So who names a nightclub 'Cabaret Punch to the Throat', anyway?" he asked, as they walked slowly around to the front of the building.

"Someone who caters to clueless ignorant Americans, numb-nuts," growled Casey in his ear. "And I thought _my_ small talk was bad. You're a couple on a romantic getaway. Act like it."

"Buenos noches, compadres," said Chuck loudly to the men standing by the door, his accent strong but indeterminate.

"Or you can act like an inebriated cowherd," muttered Casey.

Chuck ignored him. "Is this here the Soco na gargantua? Me and the missus were looking for a spot of excitement in your marvelous city and when I heard this place had SoCo _right in the name_ I knew it was the spot for me!"

One of the men gestured to the others, and they faded into the background. "Si, senhor," he said, in a deep, accented voice. "You have indeed found your little slice of heaven, Mister…?"

Chuck let go of Zondra's hand to introduce himself. "Charles. My name is Charles Charles and this here's the Missus Charles and we are the Charleses," he said in a tone of great accomplishment. Zondra took his arm and he patted her hand fondly. "Y'all can call me Chuck."

The gentleman made a slight bow, to him and especially to Zondra. "And you may call me Augusto. Augusto Gaez, owner of the Soco Na Garganta." He indicated the door, and all that lay beyond it, with a possessive wave.

Chuck's face went blank, and his eyes went wide. "Oh, my, gosh, you are my new best friend."

Gaez smiled, cat to mouse. "I fear I am unworthy of that honor, senhor…Chuck," Gaez corrected himself. "But if you will come with me, you may have the experience of some Southern American Comfort."

* * *

In the air above Rio...

Sarah finished fastening the straps to her parachute as Frost came up and held out the goggles. "I guess this is it. We've got the club roof painted now, you should have no problem."

That club. Sarah rolled her eyes. "Who names a nightclub 'Cabaret Punch to the Throat'?" She put on the hood and then the goggles. With these, the laser light bouncing off the club's roof would make the place glow brighter than any other building.

Frost smiled. "I could tell you stories, but I doubt you'd believe most of them."

"There's a surprise." Sarah moved to the door, looking down to find that brilliant dot.

"I've always been honest with you, Sarah," said Frost, into the roaring wind, not making any effort to be heard..

Sarah's ears were as good as the rest of her. "That's what I'm afraid of." The light turned green and she jumped into the void.

* * *

On the ground, outside the club...

Amy grinned as Chuck and Zondra went silent. "That was unexpected."

Casey sighed. "No."

They rounded the corner themselves, and the sound of the music from within the club increased tenfold. Amy's body began to move to the beat, even as she walked, and Casey put on an expression of long-suffering patience.

"Come on," said Amy suddenly, turning to grab his hand. "Where there's music, there's dancing, and you know how much I love dancing."

"Yeah, I know how much you love dancing," said Casey in a tone of great suffering, allowing himself to be led into the club.

Amy dove straight into the crowd, her body moving to the beat as she smiled and flirted her way through the mass of shifting bodies, smiling and flirting back. Casey stayed to the perimeter, heading toward the bar. Neither Chuck nor Zondra were at all obvious, so he looked for signs to where they might have gone. On a rear table he spotted a small statue, off center.

"Johnson, I found them," he said into his mike. "Back of the club, right turn."

"VIP room," said Amy, dancing her way out as easily as she'd worked her way in.

Casey got himself a drink, poured it into his mouth, and went to find a bathroom so he could spit it out. The training facility had no alcodote pills and he wasn't about to impair himself. He came out to find Amy primping in front of a mirror, pushing things around in her clothes. "Do you have to do that?" he asked, eyes averted.

"It's a VIP room, you have to look like you belong." She pulled out her makeup.

From the other side of the door a man laughed, deep and jovial.

Amy spoke around her lipstick. "Sounds like Gaez has a new best friend too."

Casey got out his own best friend, and checked the load. "Like I said, you have to expect the unexpected with Charles. I swear he can take a header into a midden and come up covered with diamonds."

Exit lipstick, enter compact. "I was talking about the accent, before."

"Oh, that. That's just his persona. Don't you have a favorite role you like to play?"

"Yep." Amy turned suddenly and blew dust from her compact into Casey's face. The powder blinded him, choked him, while the poison dulled his reflexes. As his consciousness started to fade, he heard her say, "I call it 'Party Girl'."

* * *

Sarah landed nimbly on the roof, in her skin-tight leather suit but with much more sensible low heeled boots. The goggles went away but the hood stayed on, no reason to let her bright yellow hair give her away now. Fumbling with the buckles to her chute, she approached the skylight.

* * *

Amy kicked the doors open, startling the two goons as they tied Chuck's and Zondra's hands. "Hey, 'Gusto, I was gonna be clever and say 'look what the CAT dragged in', but I just did my nails, so I didn't feel like dragging him in." She looked at the two goons. "You two, go get the other one."

* * *

Sarah looked down in shock, buckles forgotten._ Amy?_

* * *

"Amy?" said Zondra, as her goon administered a final tug to her bonds.

"Amy," said Chuck, as they left, leaving no one standing behind him. His fingers worked quickly.

Zondra turned to look at him. "You don't sound all that surprised about it."

"Why should I be?" asked Chuck. "It was pretty obvious, if you ask me."

"What do you mean, 'obvious'?" Augusto held Amy's arm to keep her back. "Do you have any idea how much crap I took, building up that image as a world-class dope?"

Chuck flinched, his voice going up an octave. "I didn't say you didn't do a pretty good job."

"You bet I did," said Amy. "Not once did my three tough broad so-called partners ever suspect me of being anything but a sexed-up party doll."

* * *

_Tough broad so-called _former_ partners. _Sarah pulled her gun, slowly angling her body for a good kill shot on the traitor. Something painful, and lingering.

* * *

"Why'd you do it, Amy?" asked Zondra.

"Because I _am_ a party girl," said Amy, pulling her gun. "With a different kind of party. Why play for the CIA, with all their stupid rules, when I can have my own fun with 'Gusto? It's everything I ever wanted."

"It's not perfect, though, is it? Not enough?" asked Chuck, in his sympathetic, consoling way.

"It's a little lonely," said Amy. She looked at Zondra. "Join me?"

"We could use someone with your skills," said Gaez, with all the charm of a used-car salesman. "Someone who can open a door with a fist, or a smile."

"Is that why you attacked me, shot up my car? To get me here to give me a sales pitch?" asked Zondra in wonder. "Go to hell."

"I did not attack you," said Gaez, pulling out his own gun. "I am merely defending myself."

"From what?"

"From this," said Gaez. He raised his arm and fired his pistol into the air, shattering the skylight. In the club outside, people started screaming. Running too, from the sound of it.

Sarah threw herself back, away from the bullets, and the weakened glass of the skylight gave way. Gaez and Amy leapt out of the way as she fell toward the floor, only to stop a few feet from the ground, caught up in her chute's cords.

Chuck lost no time taking advantage of the mysterious intruder's sudden appearance. He flexed his wrists, pulling against the cords he'd mostly cut through with his own razor-sharp fingernail, and the ropes snapped. He jumped on the nearest goon as Zondra did some kind of jump-and-roll maneuver. She came out of it with her hands in front of her, still tied, not that a little thing like that stopped her, or helped the goon she chose to start with.

Spinning in mid-air, gun in hand, Sarah saw her husband and her friend in danger and did what any good assassin-wife would do.

Chuck took a knife from a dead goon's hand. "Z!" he yelled.

When Zondra turned he threw the knife into a pillar near her, and she freed her hands. Snatching up a fallen weapon or two, she caught a glimpse of a closing door. "Gaez is getting away!" She gave chase, not even noticing the dangling black-clad figure as she ran into it, and started it spinning the other way.

"Zondra!" Chuck looked around quickly. Guns, guns, guns…_knives!_ He snatched up two more and went after his partner.

Sarah grabbed the cords of her chute, climbing back up to the roof.

Gaez and Amy were trapped, a mob of fleeing patrons between them and freedom. They'd need a machine gun to clear the way. Zondra dove behind the bar as Gaez fired at her, shattering mirrors and bottles with abandon.

Chuck came out with knives in hand. The crowd was almost gone and Amy was almost to the door, Gaez running to her. Chuck threw his knives, but not at either of them. The ropes holding up two chandeliers snapped, dropping twin masses of glass and steel in front of the exit even as the last innocent foot stepped through it.

"Bad move, Chuck," said Amy, firing at him. "I didn't want to kill you before but believe me I will enjoy doing it now."

The lights went out.

Zondra used that moment, before their eyes adjusted to the dimness, to slip out from behind the bar on the other side. Chuck tried to stop her but couldn't yell. He had to back her up somehow. He snatched some of the shards of glass, not knives but heavy enough for his purposes.

"There she is," said Amy.

She must have spotted Zondra's white dress. Chuck estimated her position from the sound of her voice and stood up, throwing his makeshift weapons. He knocked the gun from Amy's hand with the first, but missed with the other two as his targets dove for cover. He ducked down for more pieces.

"I see her!" yelled Amy again, and again Chuck stood up to give her cover.

Amy stood right in front of him. "Game over, Agent Charles."

A gun fired twice, and Amy flew into his arms as bullets slammed into her back. Chuck caught her body automatically, and saw Zondra standing behind her.

"What is it with you and girls, anyway?" she asked.

Behind Zondra, Chuck saw a flash of grey as Augusto Gaez stepped out from behind a pillar, taking aim at the greatest threat, who currently had her back to him. Chuck pushed Amy's body to get clear…and felt her gun, still clutched in her cooling, dead hand. Felt it slide into his own hand.

Gaez took aim.

Chuck took aim.

Zondra realized her danger and moved, and Gaez hesitated as he lost his target.

Chuck didn't hesitate at all.

* * *

**A/N2 **A lot of the sweetness and light from canon season 4 made its way into the first season of nine2five. Some of the darker stuff from canon Season 3 is making its way here, first the events from **Pink Slip**, and now from **Other Guy**. In particular, the fallout from Chuck killing Shaw was never adequately dealt with. His only immediate reaction was to worry that Sarah wouldn't love him anymore? WTF? Not the slightest sign of remorse, except when the plot required it in **Tooth**, and then it was only because the Intersect was telling him Shaw was alive, via his dreams. I don't think so. Chuck's too good a man not feel guilt for his actions.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **The show never tried to deal with the fallout from Chuck's actions in any way. Wait, I said that before. Okay, here we go, then...

* * *

"_Buenos noches, compadres."_

"_I've always been honest with you, Sarah__." _

"_Why'd you do it, Amy?"_

"_What is it with you and girls, anyway?"_

* * *

In the VIP room of a nightclub in Rio…

Sarah scrambled up the twisted cords to her chute, her mind reeling. Why wasn't Chuck home safe, where he belonged? What was he doing in the field? He had no business out here!

"_Z!"_

The last time she'd heard him speak he'd been saying her name, so weak. Now she heard it again, his wonderful voice, calling Zondra's nickname, so naturally. She saw him toss the blade so his partner could free herself, just as she herself would have done. In her spinning she'd caught glimpses of the whole short fight, the skill, the teamwork, even on opposite sides of the room. And then he'd left his own wife behind, not knowing who she was, calling Zondra's name as he followed her into danger.

Sarah frowned. Chuck should have been following _her _into danger.

_No!_ He should have been home, safe in his sister's lab.

Once back on the roof she couldn't get the buckles undone fast enough. She'd heard the gunfire, the shattering of glass. Her idiot husband had taken two knives to a gunfight. If Gaez didn't kill him she would.

_I didn't mean that, Chuck, I'm sorry!_

She had to save him. How? She couldn't think! Couldn't breathe with this idiot hood on! She clawed it off her head, looking around. She had to get into the main room now! The roof had nothing but vents and pipes, bits of metal sticking up all over. Under the roof was a space for people, to work on the lights and such. Alternate entry plan three, but ripping the hatch covers off would take too long.

Plan two, but without the harness. Cable to strut, cable to belt. This would hurt even if she did it right, but she had no choice. At least she knew where the windows were without having to look. The cable had been measured out accordingly.

She ran to the edge of the roof and dove off, arcing through the air at the end of her tether, eyes on the prize as she twisted and maneuvered to punch through the _Ow!_

Shatterproof glass. _That's new._

The lights went out, inside. Where was Chuck? The bar still had some lights, bits of neon that weren't part of the room's main circuit, and fragments of mirror that were catching something from the other side of the room. There was Chuck, scrambling around in the debris behind the bar. He was safe.

"There she is!" Amy's voice.

Chuck stood up, and Sarah slammed the glass in frustration. _No!_

He threw something, and Amy cursed in the darkness. Two more throwing motions, and he dropped back down out of sight.

"I see her!" Amy's voice again, and this time Sarah looked for the source. She heard gunshots but saw no muzzle-flash. _Dammit!_

Movement. By the doors, and some shattered chandeliers with a few lights still glowing. Someone hiding by the pillars. A man, had to be Gaez. He raised his pistol.

One shot, then a second, pinned Gaez against the pillar, his nice white shirt erupting in red. _Right in the pump._ A third shot slammed the head against the pillar. Unnecessary, but that's Zondra for you, never take two shots when three will do. Chuck was safe! She looked back to the bar.

Her heart squeezed cold negation like blood.

Chuck held a gun in his hand.

Sarah saw nothing, heard nothing but _Doom. Doom_, pulsing through her veins.

Her Chuck had just killed a man. He brought his other hand up, staring at dark smears, staring at…blood. He had blood on his hands too.

_NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo!_

Lights flared and she recoiled from the scene, the window, the building. When she reached the far end of the arc and her body inevitably swung back, she fumbled with the cable's emergency release. The second spool started to unwind, dropping her below the level of the windows but still the building came closer, closer. _Release, release!_

She grabbed a knife and sliced the cable like a throat, dropping the last ten feet into the alley, slamming into a dumpster.

Sarah Bartowski ran like all the demons of Hell were on her heels, because they were.

* * *

Zondra Rizzo dropped the cloth that she'd used to cover her white dress and went to the door. She closed her eyes and hit the lights, the room exploding against her eyelids. The first thing she saw when she opened them was the crumpled body of Augusto Gaez, and a red smear against the pillar like an arrow pointing down.

_Good riddance._

They had to move fast, before the police responded to whatever calls they were going to get. She wiped the prints from her gun, and switched weapons with the dead man. Let the ballistics show that Gaez killed Amy.

Something thumped, and she raised her new weapon, but it was only Chuck, collapsing to the floor in a kneeling position. He still held the gun out but gravity was taking its toll.

She ran across the room. "Chuck. Chuck!" No response. "Agent Charles!"

Chuck whispered something.

"What?" She held her ear close to his lips.

"Are you safe?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said instantly. _You got him._ No, that's not what he wanted to hear. "I'm fine. You saved me, Chuck."

He sighed out "Good" and fell silent. His arm dropped, the gun thumping against the floor.

She pulled it from his grip, wiped it off, and put it back where it belonged. Let the ballistics show that Amy killed Gaez. "Chuck, we have to move."

"Good." He didn't move.

"Great." If Casey wasn't moving either, she'd have to abandon them both. She ran back to the VIP room, but the bigger man was already in the hall, bracing himself against the wall. "Are you okay?"

Casey spat on the floor. "Fortunately I'd just rinsed out my mouth with a glass of good Scotch. Stopped her poison cold." And the poison that got past that, ran headlong into the Janitor's Brew he drank every day. "What's going on? Where's Chuck?"

"He's on the floor in the club."

Casey brought his head up, fixing her with a fierce look. "Wounded?"

"I don't think so. I shot Amy, he got Gaez. Right now he's just kneeling on the floor, but he doesn't look injured."

"Goddammit!" He pushed away from the wall, staggering toward the club.

"We have to get out of here," said Amy.

Casey turned and snarled, "I'm not leaving any of my team behind, got me?" He gestured at the room he'd just left. "Clean up in there!" He stumbled forward, stronger with every step, and knelt down next to his partner. "Chuck?"

"She's safe," whispered Chuck. "She's safe."

Casey lifted Chuck up as gently as any newborn. "Yeah, she's safe, and so am I, thanks to you. Good work, partner."

Chuck still whispered, but the words changed. "They're safe. They're safe…"

Casey grunted. _At least he's not _totally_ catatonic. _He turned to Zondra as she came toward them. "Get us out of here."

* * *

"What's the matter with him, Colonel?" asked Zondra as she drove through the backstreets of Rio to the evac site.

Casey looked in the back seat, where Chuck had mercifully fallen asleep. "He's got a conscience, Rizzo."

Talk about a liability in the field. "He doesn't wimp out like this every time he shoots someone, does he?"

Casey wished Carina were here. She may not shut up either, but at least she'd talk about something else. "So far."

What did that mean, 'so far'? This guy had a history and they didn't tell her? "How many men has he killed?"

Casey gave her that look.

A virgin? "No way!" As good as he was, a rep like he had? She waited for Casey to tell her it was a joke, and then waited some more. Finally she sighed. "Great."

_Yeah, that's what I said._ "Just shut up and drive, Rizzo."

* * *

One quickly changed flight plan later…

When they were airborne to DC, Casey left Zondra to watch over Chuck while he went to the conference room to check in. At least he and the General were in the same time zone this time. "Good Evening, General."

"Colonel Casey, where's the rest of your team?"

No, he didn't think that one would slide by her. "They're safe on board, ma'am," he said quickly, and first. "Amy Johnson revealed herself as the traitor, letting Agents Bartowski and Rizzo walk into a trap, and then she tried to poison me."

"I gather that events didn't work out in their favor, in spite of these advantages."

"No, ma'am, although my report for most of the rest would be hearsay. You'll have to interview Agent Rizzo for that."

"What happened to Chuck?"

Casey looked unhappy. "The long and short of it is…According to Agent Rizzo…that is, in order to save her life…" Casey took a deep breath, and tried again. "To save the life of Agent Rizzo, Special Agent Charles Bartowski shot and killed Augusto Gaez in the line of duty. Ma'am."

General Beckman digested that in silence. "I see," she said at last. "And where were you?"

"I was in the back of the club, trying to get over the poison, and aid my team. I turned the lights out in the main room, knowing that in any circumstances where everyone was equal, Chuck would always be a little equaller. That's where Agent Rizzo found me, after. She cleaned the site while I extracted Agent Bartowski. He was…" Casey chose an Ellie-word. "Responsive, but not very."

"It's not your fault, Colonel."

"I'm his handler, General, I should have forced the issue weeks ago."

"You did, John," said Beckman, getting his attention as no amount of rank-pulling would have. "We just have to hope that he's as flexible about this as he was about not using guns, well, _as guns_, in the first place." She made the kind of grunt that only high-ranking officers like Casey could understand. "Send Agent Rizzo in, please. I'll need all the data I can get before I tell Ellie anything about this…this..."

"Snafu, ma'am?"

"Once again you demonstrate your notable gift for understatement, Colonel," said the General. "Watch over him, John."

* * *

Back in Rio, on the ground…

Frost sat in the cabin on the Volkoff corporate jet, working late as usual. On the subject of Sarah Walker, Alexei and Vivian Volkoff had far different perspectives and preferences, and it was one of her jobs to reconcile them as best she could. In her favor, the fruits of Agent Walker's success tended to be considerable, and even Vivian was willing to tolerate Miss Walker's existence as long as it was productive. Another of Frost's jobs was to capitalize on that productivity, manage it, make it work for them, and for her.

Frost had long since learned the secret of serving two masters. The real trick was serving three.

In the back of the plane a woman shrieked. The computer sailed across the plane into a comfy chair on the far side. Before it landed Frost was in the aft compartment, knife in one hand and a tranq pistol in the other. The, for lack of a better term, stewardess cringed in the corner. Frost barked out one word. "What?"

The woman pointed, at the compartment with the laundry equipment in it. Several different scenarios passed through Frost's mind and were immediately discarded as untenable. The gun went away, the knife went into her dominant hand, in case close-quarters work was called for.

Frost grabbed the handle to the compartment door and pulled it open as suddenly as she could, while stepping back out of range of any immediate attack.

Sarah Walker crouched in the back of the little closet, in the deepest shadows available, breathing with a panting, animal sound. "Agent Walker? What are you doing here?" She was supposed to go home, a trap within the CIA, just waiting for Alexei Volkoff to spring it.

Sarah said nothing, just stared.

"Agent Walker, did you accomplish your mission?" said Frost, in her command voice.

Sarah _growled_ at her!

This wasn't working. Frost turned to the stewardess and said, "Tell the pilot to get us out of here, now."

The woman fled the room gratefully.

Frost put her weapon away and knelt, eye to eye. "What's the matter, Sarah?" she asked, mother to daughter. "What happened?"

Sarah flinched away from the comforting tone of her voice. "It won't come off."

Frost looked for Sarah's gun, but it had been used, lost, left behind. "You killed Gaez?"

_Chuck brought his other hand up, staring at dark smears._ "It won't come off!" She leapt out of the shadows, taking the other woman not entirely by surprise. _"It won't come off!"_

Frost would have rolled with it, but the narrow confines of the aft area brought her up against a wall, Sarah's hands at her throat. Frost went for her eyes, and Sarah jerked away. Frost kicked her back into the closet, and rolled for the door, to get some room to maneuver. She felt for her tranq pistol. It wasn't there. She looked in the doorway and saw it there on the floor.

Sarah blocked her view. "It won't come off!"

This was going to hurt. Good. Frost wanted it to hurt. She smiled, a smile that made normal people blanch, and threw away the knife. She reached to the collar of her blouse and pulled. Buttons popped, fabric tore, and the restrictive blouse gave way, revealing her much less restrictive body armor. "No!" she yelled, finally, freely, and in English, a language no one on board knew. "It doesn't come off!"

The right thing to say, if you wanted to start a war.

Sarah launched herself at Frost, but the older and more experienced agent saw the move coming and caught her hands, only to catch a kick to the ribs from Sarah's left foot. Even as she reeled from the force of the kick she held on to Sarah's wrists, dragging her off balance as well before letting go. By the time Sarah had regained her balance Frost had rolled, painfully, to open up some distance between them. Both of them adopted fighting postures.

Frost sneered at the woman with death in her eyes. "Do you think you can possibly hate me as much as I do right now?" She would welcome death, but it would have to beat her first. She still had work to do.

Sarah had nothing to say that her eyes weren't already saying. She never was very big on words.

Suddenly the floor moved sideways, and Sarah jumped. Frost lost track of things after that, the years of training and conditioning bypassing her mind entirely. She and Sarah were matching sets of reflexes now, full of rage, hatred, and bitter self-loathing.

They had so much in common.

At some point, Frost felt the table give way under her she fell on top of it, and Sarah jumped on her again, pinning her arms with her knees and going for the throat a second time. Frost tried to buck her off, or use her legs, but the fight had been taken out of her. She had no idea how long they'd been going at it, and her years betrayed her. Her head pounded and her sight grew dim, but she kept her eyes locked on Sarah's, staring her death in the face.

Suddenly Sarah's grip loosened, and she leaned forward, closer, closer, fighting gravity every step of the way. Her eyes glazed over and finally closed, her head coming to rest gently against Frost's.

Frost freed her arms and rolled Sarah off her, gently. She looked up, to see the stewardess with the tranq gun shaking in her hands. Knowing better than to try to speak, Frost gave her a thumbs-up. _You get a raise. Ow._

* * *

The next day…

Ellie came downstairs, third thing in the morning. The first two involved hitting the snooze button on her alarm clock. The fourth involved coffee. She sat at the kitchen table, head propped upon hand, drinking coffee as she watched the blinking light.

Eventually she wondered why the light was blinking. After a while it occurred to her to wonder what light it _was_.

She wasn't about to press a blinking button on her CIA-issued TV at coffee-o'clock in the morning. Somewhere around here they still had that instruction manual, probably filed under 'Instruction Manuals'.

The instructions were not written for the sleep-deprived, but they might have been written _by_ them. _Lights, blinking_ was not in the index.

Ah. Voice mail. She read some more. Self-destructing voice mail.

She got her phone, and called up its video function. If this worked she'd have to tell the boffins in R&D about it, since it probably wasn't supposed to.

Channel zero, as usual. With the TV centered in the screen, she said, "File item one."

The screen lit with General Beckman's face, against the backdrop of her office. "Ellie, call me as soon as you listen to this. Thank you." The screen faded to black, and the light went out.

Ellie sat back on her couch, folding her hands over the bulge in her tummy. Well. Kind of… anticlimactic. She checked the recording anyway. Pretty late, really. What kept a General up so late? Nothing good, she supposed, but apparently not important enough to get her out of bed.

_Okay, let's get this over with. _ "General Beckman."

* * *

Devon Woodcombe bounced downstairs, fresh from his shower and ready to kick a few stars out of the sky. He checked the pot, sadly empty. "Hey, babe, didn't you make any coffee?"

"Yup," she said from the living room. "You might want to make more though. Make a lot."

"Uh, sure, El." Working from home today? He scooped out a lot more than usual. "Anything for breakfast?"

"Yes, please. Whatever you're making."

He went out to the living room, empty pot in hand. "No, babe, what I meant was–"

She didn't look up from the computer, sitting atop her belly. Tears lined her face. "Kind of busy here, hon."

"El?"

* * *

General Beckman sat at her desk, working on her report. There were still those who thought the best use of Chuck as a resource was in the lab, and she had to figure out a way to tell them they were wrong , in spite of last night's events, and still make them like it. However horrific it may seem, last night was a molehill, not a mountain, and she was going to keep it that way.

If it was easy, anybody could do it.

"General?" asked Mr. Charles over the speaker. "Agent Miller on line 3."

Beckman checked her watch, and pressed the button. "That didn't take long."

Carina cut to the chase. "Is it true?"

"Yes, it's true."

"I was wounded. It wasn't my fault."

"I'll make sure Sarah knows that."

"She's gonna kill me," said Carina. "I should have been there."

"No, Carina," said Beckman. Today was a real first-name sort of day. She hated those. "It wasn't your fault. Your presence would not have helped, and might have made things worse." Beckman considered the matter. "If you insist on punishing yourself, though, I have an assignment for you."

"What's that?"

"Someone needs to tell Mr. Grimes."

* * *

Waking was like falling into quicksand, not something he wanted to do but fighting it just made it worse. Chuck pulled the moment of Gaez' death out of his memory, not that he wanted to remember it. Forgetting it would be worse, though, not for Gaez' sake but for his own.

Something, someone, made a noise. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed…

"Good morning, Chuck."

Crap. Chuck opened his eyes. "Doc, we gotta stop meeting like this."

* * *

"Hello, Diane."

Aaand her day was complete, distorted voice and all. "Good morning, Orion," she said, attempting to be civil. However bad her day was, his day had to be worse. And he'd blame her for it, too, even though it was all Chuck's choice. "Back to your usual purple pixels, I see." She opened the drawer for her glasses.

"You're wasting my time."

The voice was firm, authoritative. The figure, that familiar silhouette, was still, with none of the old hacker's relentless twitching. "Who are you?" asked Beckman.

The distorted voice had no answers for her. "What is wrong with Sarah Walker?"

* * *

**A/N2 **It's a beginning.


End file.
